


traction

by eeeeeeeeeeeeeaSports



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Has Panic Attacks, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Needs a Hug, Aromantic Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Baker Morality | Patton Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Are Twins, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hero AU, Hero Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Hurt Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Polyamory, Scientist Logic | Logan Sanders, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Villain Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Villain Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Villain Deceit | Janus Sanders, and it causes several problems, and very gay, based off of a prompt i found, but virgil doesnt know that, oh no, remus and janus are poly, roman causes several problems, tagging on the computer is easier, they were roommates, theyre also enemies and cause eachothers wounds, theyre rommates and lie about their wounds, you'd think it'd be the enemies to lovers trope but you'd be wrong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24643900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeeeeeeeeeeeeaSports/pseuds/eeeeeeeeeeeeeaSports
Summary: Virgil briefly wanders how he manages to get himself into these situations. Roman wanders how he could fuck up this badora superhero story where the villain and the hero are roommates and they keep making excuses to each other about why they are out all the time and they stitch each other up after battles but neither has any idea that the other is their nemesis and they keep on having to lie to each other about why they're covered in scratches and bruises.In which Roman fails to deliver that he's aromantic, which causes a lot of problems for literally everyone------------------------------my computer is fixed but I cant guarantee the updates will come any faster
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 141





	1. what is it, our stab wound? stay out of it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil meets roman, turns out he's a bitch. but fuck it if he isn't hot

"Fuck,” he mumbled, hand clutched around his aching side as he ducked behind a building to hide in the dark alleyway. He’d been hit good this time, and he was almost certain this one needed stitches.

This? This was the fucking _worst_.

Picking his head up, he grimaced at the sight of his blood-soaked hands. This was just perfect, there was only one place he could go from here, and his roommate had decided today was his move-in day, so Virgil was now out to suffer the consequences. He fumbled with a small metal plate in the middle of his chest, fingers swift as they disabled the dark attire. Beneath was his usual clothing minus his tell-tail hoodie, so he noticed fairly quickly that his shirt was ripped from the impact he had made. With haste and disgruntled annoyance, he began his walk home, obscuring himself in the shadows as he went. He was going to kill that stupid prince.

It was almost midnight by the time he reached the dark oak door located at the top of the many, many flights of stairs in his apartment complex (of course, the elevator had decided that day was the best to be broken). He had moved his stuff here a few days ago, so he was mostly free to laze about for a few days- but a certain scenario had occurred that warranted him from staying home and scrolling through Tumblr where he was happiest. Unlocking the door and pushing it open with a sigh, he called out a weak ‘I’m home.” To nobody in particular. The apartment was dark, the only light coming from the underside of his roommate’s door. Taking that as an opening to treat his wounds, Virgil hobbled into the kitchen, swiping the first aid kit that was on the kitchen counter- wait, counter? He had put it under the sink, he was sure of it.

Regardless of the box’s whereabouts, Virgil slid onto the couch with a tired grunt as his wound protested. He peeled his shirt off swiftly, cringing as it pulled dried and flaking blood from around his sensitive skin. He tossed it onto the arm of the couch as he flipped open the lid of the first aid box, scanning it for the things he needed. “fucking fantastic.” He grumbled. They were out of gauze? He swore he had made sure there was some in there before he left. Grumbling, he bypassed it anyway. He needed to clean the wound and give himself stitches first, then he could worry about the case of the mysterious missing gauze.

Sliding the antiseptic wipes from the packet, he began cleaning his wound gradually, starting from the outer edges. He’d have to get the tweezers to see if there was any metal that had managed to get in there from when he was hit. He had learned the hard way to always check.

Once he was done, he had a pile of bloodied antiseptic wipes by his side, but that was the least of his issues.

he pulled the tweezers from the box and began rummaging through the chunks of skin and sticky clots of blood, pulling out small bits of metal that he cautiously hid in the pile of bloodied fabric to his side. This was fun, utterly, and incredibly _fun_. The best day ever.

he was going to fucking _kill_ that prince.

Pulling the needle and string from the box, he thread the string through the eye and braced himself. This wasn’t the first time he’d given himself stitches, but that didn’t mean it got any easier. He knotted the end of the string and thread the pointed object through his skin in one motion, hissing in discomfort as he felt the string rubbing against the new injury. “Ah shit, that does _not_ get easier.” He grumbled, pulling the needle up and holding it between his teeth as he inspected the stitch, willing his muscles to stop tensing.

There was a soft creak from down the hallway, and Virgil lifted his gaze sharply to meet its source, careful to not overly tug on the string that trailed down and attached to his skin. He froze. He didn’t know the person standing there, nor did his muddled brain gather that this was his roommate right away, so he did the only thing he physically could in his state and froze, his body undignifiedly stuck between fight or flight.

The person stood before him had coppery brown hair that was curled out of his face expertly, with soft green eyes that almost looked red in the gleaming hue of the moons reflective lighting. He was dressed casually in a white vest and pajama pants, and there, wrapped around the bends on both arms, were bandages. All at once, the puzzle pieces clicked into place.

“So that’s where the gauze went…” he mumbled around the needle in his mouth, the cold slender metal offending his tongue as it was dragged through the formation of words.

“Holy shit, you- are you alright?” the man asked frantically as he rushed to Virgil's side, having registered what he was seeing and jumped back into action. Virgil nodded once, taking the needle out of his mouth and balancing it between his thumb and forefinger. The other man, who Virgil now recognized was _probably_ his roommate, kneeled down and looked at Virgil’s wound. “Stars that looks like it hurts.” He pointed out and Virgil rolled his eyes silently.

Yes, it did hurt, he reminded himself. He had been thrown into the side of a building that’s sign just so happened to be just so slightly to the left and just so slightly _sharp as shit_.

he _swore_ that he would kill that god damn prince.

Instead, he mumbled a quiet “Hurts like fuck.” With a restrained and curt nod to his roommate, not wanting to jolt the thread too much. Directing his attention nonchalantly back towards his injury, he slipped the needle through again and pulled it taught. He felt the wound strain and pull closed between the two stitches. “Christ, do you want me to do that for you? You’re probably not in the best state to literally give yourself stitches, and I know how to do them.” His roommate offered with a small shrug of his shoulders.

Now, you could ask Virgil today why he had considered the offer, and he’d tell you he didn’t have a clue. You could ask him why in the hell he had nodded and passed the other the needle, and he’d say he couldn’t tell you. What he could tell you, however, was that he felt like he’d been hit with a tone of bricks, and that would be a pretty valid excuse.

“I’m Roman, by the way. Roman Kingsley. I’m guessing you’re my roommate and not some crazy murderer that knows a suspicious amount about the gauze stocked under the sink?” the other, Roman, spoke up. Virgil managed a chuckle. “Call me Virgil.” He offered blandly, voice torn and scratchy from his...exercise.

“Alright,” Roman laughed warmly, pulling another stitch closed as Virgil’s face scrunched up in silent protest. “So, Virgil, care to explain to me how you managed to get stabbed?” he asked with a brow raised. The accused sighed in frustration, running a hand through his sweat and blood matted hair. “Got mugged.” He lied, because it isn't like he was going to tell this Roman guy that he was one of the most wanted villains this side of New York.

Roman winced. “Ouch, what did they steal?” he asked, and Virgil sighed.

“Nothing, I managed to get away. But my dignity is definitely back in some alleyway, somewhere.” He grunted, catching his lower lip between his teeth as Roman thread the needle through his side again. “that’s rough buddy. Get stabbed often?” he asked as he secured the stitch. Virgil let himself chuckle at that, nodding once with an almost faraway look in his eyes “Yeah, which I think surprises no-one.”

“Then I take It I’ll be patching you up more often.” Roman said, feigning annoyance. Virgil only rolled his eyes with a small grunt “Oh yeah? And how did you get your injuries then, Mr. bulletproof?” at that, Roman cracked a smile, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Well, it’s not quite stitching material, but I managed to fall down some stairs and cut up my arms a great deal. The skin was peeling off and everything, it was gross.” He lied expertly, even adding a small shiver to secure the act, the acting skills he had acquired from his copious amount of theatre productions kicking in full throttle. He was, in fact, referring to when he was kicked in the chest and scraped along the floor for a good few blocks, but nobody needed to know that. He had used his elbows to save the rest of his arms, but the result was in fact detrimental. Lucky for him, he healed quickly.

Virgil stifled a laugh “of course, so are you just the king of being clumsy or some shit?” he smirked.

Roman pulled another stitch taught with a hum “If so, you must be the prince of acquiring stab wounds.” He shot back. Virgil mulled it over in his mind for a moment before humming.

“stab wound? I think you mean extra pocket.”

Roman spluttered “what- ew, ugh don’t say that!” he cried squeamishly. Virgil only laughed, reveling in Romans' displeasure.

Yeah, this was the _worst_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck at summaries and chapter names but I don't really care


	2. law and order dun dun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil goes to work with his best friend and thinks of anarchy and how annoying Roman is

Virgil, to his own surprise, woke up in his bed. He briefly remembered stumbling into his room in his sleep-deprived state, but he doesn’t remember falling asleep- half of his mind was convinced he had stayed on the couch with his new roommate all night- his name was Roman, right? Reaching up, he felt his headphones resting securely against his ears, and the domino effect within his mind finally crashed to a startling halt.

He now vividly remembers wandering into his room after bidding Roman a (something or the other, but nothing good) night, being unable to fall asleep, and then promptly drowning himself in music for hours until the waves crashed him against the shore of unconsciousness. He didn’t know why he was so confused before, this happened so often it should really have been obvious.

He rubbed his eyes sleepily, the weight of his headphones registering fully against his ears as soft MCR floated through to his ears. If he kept falling asleep in his headphones, they’d break.

Fortunately for him, because he’d gone to bed at stupid o’clock at night, he woke up at a fairly normal hour. He stood, settling himself cross-legged on the floor with a small makeup pallet as he stared into the full body mirror he had propped up against the wall. He sat there for a good fifteen minutes or so, cleaning his face with wet wipes and then applying his usual dose of makeup to cover all of his imperfections. He dressed next, the usual emo attire, and ran a hand through his hair to fix it up a little. Next was the bag, which he packed hastily and with a sense of familiarity. He hauled it over his shoulder with a yawn as he exited quickly to go to the bathroom.

Lucky for him, the bathroom was right next to his room, so he managed to slip in and out quickly after doing the usual business. His routine was always the same. Wake up unbearably early or late, do makeup, wear clothes, pack bag, bathroom stuff, double-check, triple-check, coffee.

The routine grounded him, as order usually did, and dragged him out of his sleep wired mind as he swayed through the stages.

Unfortunately for him, when he escaped the cold walls of the bathroom and finally slipped his headphones around his neck, he was bombarded with the sound of his obnoxious roommate’s singing as he cooked what Virgil assumed to be eggs. He let out a frustrated sigh and stalked into the kitchen as silently as he could manage, snatching the coffee capsules and a mug from the cupboard above the sink. He slipped the capsule into the machine, and his mug underneath to catch the fluids.

The machine started loudly, causing Virgil to jump. Yes, he was the one to bring the machine, and yes, he _knew_ it was loud, but it was also _early_ , and the noise had shocked him despite his subconscious being all too familiar with it.

Apparently, it made Roman jump, too. He spun around, singing dying down to reveal that yes, the radio was in fact on, and Roman had just been singing loud enough to mask even the radios obnoxious volume. “Virgil! Stars and goodness- Sorry, I didn’t see you there, good morning!” he greeted with a smile, turning back to his eggs not a second later to make sure they weren’t ruined from lack of attention. Virgil only hummed. He picked up his coffee and a spoon, sliding onto the countertop. He stirred the coffee as he sat cross-legged on the cold surface, as he had done for as long as he could remember. it didn’t exactly seem out of place for him to do this, he often sat in places he wasn't meant to. physically and societally. 

(apparently, Roman did not vibe with this concept)

So, Roman turned, now humming the song in favor of singing loud enough to burst both of their collective eardrums. And as he turned, he almost dropped the plate of eggs- he must have transferred them while Virgil was focused on his coffee- at seeing Virgil on the counter, clearly not expecting the other to have claimed the space as a seat. Roman placed his plate down and clutched the front of his shirt dramatically “Stars on a Monday, you’re so silent I didn’t notice you were even there! What, do you just teleport everywhere or something? You…you creepy cookie?” he exclaimed and sat at a stool, a small huff on his lips as he did so.

Virgil hummed again, lifting the mug to his lips to take a prolonged sip. “yeah, I do that.”

The specifics of what exactly Virgil _‘just do’_ were never officially expanded upon, but Roman didn’t seem very irked by it either way so he figured it was fine. He didn’t stay long after that, finishing his coffee quickly despite the burn, and fleeing out the door without giving Roman a second glance. Yes, he had stitched him up, but socialization was _not_ his thing, and Roman seemed way too extroverted to even consider talking to on any normal occasion (let alone on a sleep-deprived Monday morning).

Walking down the street, Virgil couldn’t help but sigh to himself. He knew what he was going to do today, but first? He had to work. Normal people have normal lives, after all.

He watched as his boots collided with the floor to the beat of his music, leisurely dragging his feet despite his need to get to his workplace on time.

Walking into the coffee shop was always an experience and a half. His best friend Patton was standing at the counter like usual, his face lighting up when he saw the gloomy emo, waving him over excitedly. Virgil slipped behind the counter, giving a two-finger salute to Patton as he entered the back room to drop off his bags before he had to work.

His fingers expertly tied the strings at the back of the pastel apron, (which he had always resented for its clash in color scheme to his usual attire) and he stuffed a small, thin black box into his pocket. for safekeeping, he would argue.

Slipping back out into the shop, he began to make drinks, the actions of each drink muscle memory by now. Patton told him the orders like usual, and Virgil made them and passed them along. The routine was smooth, familiar, organized, and it kept the heat of his anxiety mostly at bay while he worked. Yes, it didn’t completely diminish it, but the reassurance that the routine held over him was the best he would get in an atmosphere with such responsibilities.

Seconds ticked by, rolling into minutes that spun like thread into hours, and before he knew it, his shift was over. Time always seemed to pass quicker with Patton, their smooth conversations echoing the passing of time in silent waves. It was always nice. Always peaceful. Always the only real slither of normality in his _totally normal_ life.

He entered the back room with Patton, ridding himself of the frilly apron in favor of his patchwork hoodie. He slipped the box out of his apron pocket in the process, sliding it back into his bag as Patton hummed. Virgil assumed the other was also changing to head home like they usually did. He could always trust Patton to be his one predictable pin in the board so scattered with throwing stars and daggers.

“So,” Patton spoke as soon as they stepped out of the small shop, a familiar pep in his step “How’s your new roomie? Is he sweet? Is he nice? Is he cuuuute?” he asked excitedly. Virgil huffed out a breath, averting his eyes. there was no denying that Roman was good looking, yes, but he wasn’t about to say that _out loud,_ and especially not to Patton of all people- he would never hear the end of it. Besides, “He’s annoying.” Virgil confirmed, hands buried deep in his hoodie pockets, fingers absentmindedly fiddling with a loose string as he continued “This morning he was singing Disney songs so loud that it inspired me to go deaf.” He grumbled, unamused.

Patton laughed warmly “That sounds nice! Disney songs are _always_ a good thing to wake up to.” He urged, bumping shoulders with his friend gently as they walked in tandem. Virgil barely managed to bite back a scowl. He didn’t want to upset his friend by straight up telling him that his roommate was an asshole, but damnit did he want to. He grumbled a curse under his breath as he dug his hands deeper into his pockets.

“Did you get settled into the apartment okay? I know you moved in a few days ago but you still haven’t updated me” Patton pipes back up quickly. Virgil shrugs, taking a breath. He hadn’t had time to really admire the place yet as he had been pretty busy, and since he was literally stabbed yesterday- but well, he supposed the process went smoothly enough. “Yeah…was alright, I guess. How’s that crush of yours?” he asked with a faint smirk. Patton spluttered, waving his hands around In front of his face.

“W-what crush? I don’t have a- Logan is _not_ a crush, I-“ his rambling was broken off by a soft chuckle at his side. Patton shyly looked to Virgil, cheeks flushed in rosy pink. “I didn’t say you had a crush on Logan.” Virgil reminded calmly. The speed of which Patton’s cheeks reddened was almost shocking as he covered his face with a small groan. His companion only offered a small pat on the back, but their conversation picked back up quickly after that.

Virgil walked side by side with his peppy friend, reveling in the calm air the environment currently held. Later, he knew full well that his- no, somebody else’s life would be turned upside down. But for now? The calm eased his nerves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably going to go back and edit this chapter- make it more interesting to read. the contents of the story won't change, but I just wanna make it sound better  
> edit: yeah I edited this chapter. I edited the other one too, so maybe I'm a perfectionist :')


	3. no talk, he angy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil gets down to business (to defeat the Huns), and roman is a cheating bastard for a second before Virgil flips his lid and the tables in the process

It was still light outside when he had dropped Patton off at his home.

How light it’d be when he got to the town center, though? Well, that he couldn’t say.

Stretching his arms above his head with a hum and a click, his back and shoulders cracked into place. He lowered his arms again, pulling his bag from off of his back and pulling out a small, thin black box. He stuck it in his deep hoodie pocket, tucking his hands in after to ensure he kept the box close and out of harm’s way.

Walking to the center of town was never fun. It was a long trip, especially from Patton’s house- but he had something he needed to do, and mark his words, he would do it. And with style. Maybe ‘Prince charming’s idea of ‘style’ was fanciful and flashy, but his? His was foreboding. His was not just a style for the sake of style. It was a feeling evoked by fear. It was the way you cower at a spider when it skitters across the ceiling, the way you back away from a dark alley at night. It was how you knew when to run the other way and never look back. His style was darkness, fear, and it was _power_.

And he _loved_ it.

He didn't necessarily _want_ to be ‘the bad guy’, but if fighting against the unjust rules of the world had him painted that way? Well then, he supposed being the bad guy wasn’t the worst thing you could be. He was careful and calculated, always taking precautions never to hurt anyone, but that would never be noticed- he was the bad guy. But screw labels, he had a job to do and he didn’t care what he was called for it.

He was Virgil Storm, an anxious, self-deprecating mess who glowered at the world through a broken lens. Just one man, never anything special, never anything to pay attention to. And Virgil liked it that way.

Ducking into an alleyway by the town center, of which he had ensured there were no cameras, he slipped the small, thin black box out of his pocket.

Virgil lifted it into his palm, small purple ripples of light emitting from where his fingers skittered across the surface. There was a quiet ding of confirmation from the box and he spared a smile down at his creation.

He pressed the dark metal against the middle his chest.

Virgil Storm was a nobody, an anxious disaster. But within the dark fabric and spindly metal plates, this was not Virgil Storm.

In a dark alleyway near the town center, there stood a nameless villain, grin wide and visible. Teasing. The only visible feature of his body, the rest cloaked by black and striking purple, with a visor that covered the upper section of his face.

Virgil storm now sat complacent, waiting for his turn again, forever begrudging. They were the same person, that much was true, but hidden behind the shadow of his gear, Virgil Storm was finally _someone_.

And it was time to get busy.

-=-

Darkness flooded the town center, shadows whispering as they moved to fill the once empty space. Within the cloud of darkness was the unnamed villain himself, existence relocating every few seconds as he scouted the area. All the people had escaped as he had planned, the shadows a fair warning. Things seemed to be going well so far.

Until they inevitably weren’t.

There was a loud crash, the sound of concrete cracking and being displaced as ‘ _he’_ arrived- and Virgil briefly wandered who paid for all the property damage the fanciful idiot caused.

“Worry not, civilians! I shall dispose of this evil and rid you all of your sorrow!” a deep voice boomed. The small snicker that forced its way out of the villain’s lips went unheard by the hero as he had ducked into physical subspace, but the humor of the area being completely barren did give him some petty satisfaction. The shadows had seeped out from their places stuck between time and covered the whole town by this point. He had ordered them to get everyone out- he knew how messy fights with _‘the prince’_ could get.

And within a passing second, everything froze. The sounds, the smells, the feeling of everything that moved and existed through time, just stopped. He knew that the prince wasn’t aware of his abilities in the slightest, in fact, there were tones of theories about what they were all over the internet. He found it fun in his spare time to look up what other people thought, and his favorite theory so far was on a cryptid YouTube channel that had named him ‘the Succedaum’, with the assumption that he seduced shadows to act at his will and use them to enhance his senses and speed.

They were wrong, of course. Not miles away, but still wrong.

Virgil had made his way up and above the shadows to perch on a statue that breached the top of the darkness just barely. He perched like a golem, hands splayed against the cold rock and legs apart to have his arms sit in front of his form.

With a slow blink, time started up again.

Virgil smirked at the hero who was floating before him, identity masked but extravagant nature sewn into his suit. “Sup, princey.” He gave a two-finger salute and watched as the hero startled and stumbled back a meter or so.

“My good _god_ , Dr doom and gloom- you have _got_ to stop doing this!” he called, jabbing an accusing finger at his nemesis’ face. The villain before him just grinned wider. He was _enjoying_ this.

“I’m a villain, prince _underarm stink_ , it’s my 'job' to scare and defeat you. By any means necessary.” As he spoke, he began lifting himself into a standing position. Naturally, he was shorter than the hero (but only by like, a head, leave him alone), so he had equipped his boots to lift his height. Intimidation and all. Before the other could be insulted by the schoolyard insult, he swung swiftly into action. “Isn’t that right, hero?” he purred as he took a step forward, a shadow moving to his will and creating a solid steppingstone for him.

He watched as the tanned skin from under the princes own (more ballroom themed) mask, flushed a soft red. He could see the idiot’s eyes through his mask, as he had truly stuck to a 'practical' mascaraed theme. There was a glass protective layer covering his eyes, yes, but Virgil could still see them clear as day, and he watched as the soft red flickered to the dainty smirk on Virgil’s own face, and he skillfully resisted the urge to punch the dumbass before their formal greeting was over.

Snapping back into reality, the prince shot a small scowl Virgil’s way, clenching his gloved fists. “You have some nerve, captain scrunch,” he accused as he pointed a finger directly in front of the others face, to which the villain scrunched up his nose in protest.

“Your tyranny will rain ramped no longer!” he called, and Virgil smirked gleefully.

“Pretty sure it's 'run’, princey.” He jabbed, to which the hero looked at him in an undignified display of confusion. This only widened the villain's grin as he began to talk again. “It's 'run ramped', not rain. _Pretty_ sure.” He shrugged loosely but was cut off when the prince just punched him in the gut.

Guess he didn’t like being corrected.

Virgil tried not to curl in on himself, but damnit this bastard hit hard. Taking a page from said bastards’ book, the villain thought he’d play a little dirty too. He looked up to him with the most dangerous expression he could muster with only half of his face visible, the one that sent a warning shock of fear down the hero’s spine each and every time it was used. Usually, Virgil was a laid-back villain, despite his ‘crimes’, so when he used ‘the face’, his nemesis knew what was up. He did not take lightly to being punched without a fair warning like they usually had.

honestly, the public would be surprised with how civil their introductions usually were.

Time froze.

Leisurely, Virgil stepped on the solidified shadows to stand behind the prince. The steppingstones he had used to get there promptly vanishing after every step and Virgil prepared himself. He couldn’t push prince charming right now without pulling him out of time, so he had to start it up again.

And he did.

As soon as the earth began to spin again, Virgil lifted one leg and kicked out, the metal soul of his boot colliding against the mid-point of the princes back. The hero tumbled, his perch in the air swiftly disrupted and thrown off course, sense of balance being stripped away. In turn, he practically flew into the shadowy depths of smoke and mist.

Parting the shadows to see the damage more clearly, Virgil just about caught the prince smashing his shoulder into the wall. Ouch, that’s gonna leave a bruise. If not a dislocated shoulder at best.

His answer was in the pop that filled the air as the prince smashed his shoulder back into the wall to get it into the right place. Ouchies.

With a grin, the hero jumped and tackled Virgil, who was too distracted by the dislocated shoulder to stop and dodge. Besides, he didn’t like manipulating time that much, else he was worried something bad would happen- that and it was more fun when he fought properly with the prince. It kept him distracted from the real problem, and it was good practice. That being said, if he wanted to win outright, he could just keep playing dirty and stopping time. But he doesn’t. how nice of him.

He was smashed into the concrete below him, and then he smirked. Something he had realized by now was that he himself could see in the dark, his ability being drawn to shadows causing the casual side effect. The next thing he realized was that prince alarmingly idiotic could _not_ , in fact, see in the dark.

His senses were heightened, yes, but even the ability to see far doesn’t mean he could see well in darkened places. In fact, his sense of direction was horrible in the dark because of how strong his usual sight was. The hero also tended to use echolocation when he needed to get around in the shadows. This was always when Virgil used time manipulation the most. It was fun and watching the prince dance and fall over his own feet to catch him was even more so.

Slipping out of the hero’s grip as time was paused, Virgil darkened the area. He could turn on and off his ‘night vision’ at will, that much was true. He could always see better in the dark despite that though, but the ability to turn off the darkness in his vision completely was very helpful as his abilities progressed. He stood to the side as time unfroze, and then it was a game of ‘teleportation chase’ as the prince had started calling it. It was almost funny, how so many people thought he could teleport. if that were the case, Virgil doubted the threat would be as large.

It was when he was moving through time again when it happened, he had bumped into the hero and was worried that it had pulled him out so tried to steady him- and he couldn’t tell you which one did it. But all he knew was that the idiot had fallen into frozen time with him.

(maybe _he_ was the idiot)

Fine, he could work with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably edit and renew this chapter eventually but for now I can't be assed. anyway, feel free to bully me in the comments if there's any mistakes


	4. Virgil is an adorable badass for a whole chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil uses the frozen time to his advantage, his fear factor and knowledge of inducing and enduring anxiety coming into play. He has a good day that day, but roman does not

Roman stumbled forward, arms out to catch himself just in case he fell. If he wasn’t mistaken, the villain he had been fighting just had their hands on his shoulders. Wait, they had their hands on his shoulders?

Yes, the villain did have their hands on his shoulders and oh- _oh_. The feeling of their palms pressed against his form, jacket or no, cast a shadow of comfort beyond any other. The other’s hands were by no means warm, but they weren’t exactly cold either. It was sturdy, and it was…

Not wanting to question it any further, he tried to locate his dark-clad enemy once again.

The area was clouded with darkness, but something felt eerily off. There was no sound from the near distance anymore, no calls of terror or plans to go on holiday- his hearing was pretty good- so what exactly had happened? The difference was noticeable, that much was true, but Roman just didn’t know what the hell could cause such a thing. Maybe the shadows were obscuring his hearing? But- they’d never done that before.

There was a hum from behind him, low and teasing, and he spun around to face its source. Hearing is still intact then, he supposed.

There, standing behind him was his nemesis, the bane of his very existence, the reason he trains so hard, the one he needed to defeat. The other was standing tall, but the very fact that they weren’t teleporting was suspicious- and he only now realizes that oh, the shadows had loosened around the two so the hero could see the other properly.

How generous...

The villain’s outfit was a brilliant black, assassin-like hood and cloak draped across their shoulders and over their head. The hood was detailed with purples that ranged from a steady violet to deep wine, flickers of amethyst and lavender expertly stitched into the fabric to look purely magical. The rest of the villain’s outfit was obscured by the previously mentioned cloak, of which Roman knew was detachable from personal experience- but the visor practically shimmered in the anti-light as they smirked. The black of their outfit looked as if merged with the shadows, which illuminated the purple perfectly, but Roman knew that the other could be wearing bright white and still hide perfectly in the pockets of darkness.

What was he doing again?

“Well, I suppose this was my bad,” the villain spoke, voice hollow but teasing and how the _hell_ could someone walking be _that_ distracting? Wait, they’re walking. Towards him. _Oh_.

“I wonder if I could leave you here,” they purred “I’m a busy man, after all. got places to be.” They- _he_ , shrugged. Roman tore himself out of his thoughts, plastering a scowl on his face as he stared down the villain before him. “And where exactly is _here?_ ” he snarled, because okay, this was getting a little weird now. The other simply shrugged and turned away, looking off into the darkness.

“Technically, we’re still where we were. Or, more accurately, when.” He hummed; eyes still trained on the dark expanses to the side of them. “but if I take myself back, that takes you back with me. What if there was a way to keep you here? In this point in time, I mean. Like the shadows that live through here, maybe I could trap you with them. But I wouldn’t know where to start, which is an issue. Hm…” he mumbled to himself, but the silence was so loud that Roman heard every word and took a step back.

“I could try and create a time bubble, or more accurately- a loop so that you relive this moment forever…” he smirked to himself, turning to look at Roman who was now glaring daggers at the other. This bitch knew that Roman could hear him, and they were _smirking_ like this was some sort of _joke_. “Just kidding.” He said as he huffed a small laugh.

(The risks were too huge anyway. A time loop that included himself may have resulted in...complications.)

“I’m not that mean.” He shrugged, and a small trickle of the shadows scuttled up his leg and settled on his shoulder. The shadow was so impossibly dark that it even stood out against the surrounding shadowy barricade, and if Roman wasn’t scared before then he definitely was now. “Oh, hey Salem. Is it done?” he asked the creature to which it flicked what seemed to be a tail in response. Guess that meant yes.

The villain looked to him once again. “It’s a shame, you didn’t put up as much of a fight as you usually do. I’d ask what’s up but of course, I don’t actually care. Anyway, I’ll give you one more bit of advice.” He turned away again, the smirk audible in his voice despite being turned away. “Steady yourself.” He chuckled before the shadows swallowed him up and he was gone.

Roman growled, mouth open to shout a retort, but before he could say anything, something shifted and he tumbled onto his ass, the shadows just then deciding to dissipate. In the distance, he saw a bank in flames and a shattered statue of the prince himself.

“What the _fuck_.”

-=-

Virgil slipped out of frozen time, leaving the hero behind as he slipped right back in, securing his sanctuary once again. He hummed as he disarmed himself, outfit fitting nicely into the slim black box. He slipped it into his bag and chuckled. He could see the prince, mid-fall, as he was obviously not prepared for the change in pace as the earth started to move again. He snapped a quick picture and began making his way home. Maybe he could pick up some dinner on the way, fish and chips sounded good.

Maybe he’d get some for Roman, too. He was in a good mood, after all.

-=-

Not knowing what Roman liked, for any normal person, wouldn’t be a big deal. But for Virgil, it meant buying everything on the menu- _just in case_. He knew it was unreasonable, but he decided he could just shove some in the fridge for later if they didn’t eat it all. Besides, it was getting dark now and Virgil hadn’t eaten much that day.

Being able to stop time at will was something Virgil had to accept but never really enjoyed. At least at first. He was worried that one day if he went in, he’d never come out. It became something he hid from people, because really, why wouldn’t he? In this world, there was a minority of people who had gained these abilities. It wasn’t illegal, not at all, in fact, they tried to recruit people with abilities to be ‘heroes’ like the prince. Some people called them freaks, some physically attacked them and being as cautious as he was, Virgil never openly showed his ability to anyone. Not even Patton.

It took some time to master it and can his fears, but he had. Eventually. It wasn’t an easy process, and it started with just quick hops through frozen time to get to the café so he wouldn’t be late. That translated into naps during the day, and sometimes just to give himself some peace quiet. Only certain technology worked in frozen time, so he had to navigate that sort of thing too. It was tedious, yes, but it was helpful, in its own way.

Before he even realized it, he was back ‘home’, standing outside the door with several bags in hand. He let shadow cast tendrils unlock the door for him, as he hadn’t any hands free to do so himself, and slipped into the apartment. It was quiet, so he assumed Roman wasn’t home yet. He _had_ frozen time to try and get here early after all. No suspicion, right? He placed the bags on the counter and began displaying all the food onto the island like a buffet. That way, Roman could take what he wanted, and Virgil wouldn’t have to become the embodiment of anxiety worrying about what he liked again.

Grabbing his own, smaller box of chips and curry sauce- they tasted good together, okay?- he retreated to the couch, where he sat cross-legged at one end, almost trying to hide away into the arm. He flicked through the channels nonchalantly but stopped when he spotted ‘the nightmare before Christmas’ was due to play on one specific channel. He settled for that one, feeling oddly comfortable in this living space for once.

Then, the door slammed open, and Virgil could have sworn he felt the hinges creak under the pressure all the way from the couch. With another slam of the poor door as it closed, Roman stomped into the flat, mumbling curses under his breath as he went. Virgil had jumped at the sound but managed to stay relatively calm as he turned to peer over the back of the couch at a seething roommate.

The thing that caught Virgil the most off guard in the idiot’s appearance was his eyes. They were a shocking ruby red, that much was unmistakable, and he half debated taking a picture for proof. but yes, in fact, they were red, and he was certain he didn’t need image proof for this. It was clear as day, after all, and he knew _exactly_ what that meant.

At noticing Virgil, Romans eyes reverted back to a soft green in what couldn’t have been more than a second. You see, one of the tells of an able person was their eyes. When using their ability, or overcome with emotion, their eyes would change to the color of their inner ability. This included enhanced senses like Vigils eyesight in the dark, all people with enhanced senses could turn them off. Virgil’s own eyes, as the only hetero thing about him, were strange in their own glow. His one blue eye would glow purple, the soft pale green of his other only seeming to glow into a more toxic rendition of its original form.

Sometimes, abled eyes would switch to the same ability generated color when overcome with strong emotion such as anger or love or anxiety- anything really, as long as it was strong enough. Not everyone’s eyes changed color when they emitted emotion or power (some peoples color already being the same as their eyes), but all seemed to emit a soft glow. It didn’t create light, no, but there was always an intensity behind the new shimmer (such as his own green eye).

But either way, that meant Roman was abled.

And either way, Virgil knew there was something familiar about those eyes.

You saw people with red eyes all the time on the street, or on TV, but _these specific eyes_ -

“Why is there so much food on the island? Are you having a party or something?” Roman called from the kitchen, having noticed the array of food and gravitated towards it. Virgil scoffed, having been brought out of his thoughts now. “Me? Having a party? What, with the total of like, three, maybe four people I can hold a conversation with for more than five minutes?” he huffed, shaking his head.

“I uh, didn’t know what you liked so…take your pick.” He shrugged as he turned back to the screen, trying to avoid Roman's gaze. There was a small chuckle and then the man himself sat next to him on the couch, a plate of food on his lap. “And my friends call _me_ extra.” Roman grinned and then sent a glance to Virgil with a soft smile. “Thanks, emo nightmare. It's appreciated,” he turned his attention to the screen “I had a bad day.”

Virgil fiddled with the sleeves of his jacket as he hummed. “Well, you’re uh, welcome, I guess. And before you ask, I’m not changing the channel.” He mumbled, shoving food into his mouth to avoid social interaction. He didn’t mention that he wasn’t, in fact, extra, but just cautious, instead focusing on the glowing screen.

(Roman wouldn't have accepted that anyway. probably)

Roman looked as if he wanted to ask, but all was explained when the intro to the film started to play, and Virgil watched out of the corner of his eye as a grin split across Romans face.

No words were exchanged after that, the two closeted enemies enjoying the film as they snacked on the plethora of greasy food Virgil had provided. It was nice, that much Virgil would (begrudgingly) admit. He smiled behind the barrier of his hand. maybe this wasn’t so bad, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like usual, ill probably improve this in due time like the other chapters, and if there are any spelling mistakes let me know because honestly, I suck at proofreading


	5. dungeons and draggons- and draggons?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [DISCLAIMER: not actually about dungeons and dragons. (sorry)]  
> who's ready for some good old sympathizing with the villain? because oh boy, is Virgil the anti-hero in this chapter.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> kidnapping, murder, blood, gore, a bitch boy that gets what he deserves

“Stop doing that, Lillo and bitch!” Roman called into the darkness as a chuckle floated against the abys, only to fade into the distance like a fleeting dream. It had been a week since the last interaction with his enemy, and now, once again, the shadow of a villain was playing with him. leading him on in a game of teleportation chase, which he had skillfully renamed _‘cheating’_ after the last incident. It wasn’t creative, he knew, but this bitch wasn’t playing _fair_.

He grunted, eyes scanning the area despite his knowledge of how little the action would do. This was getting ridiculous. He needed to try something new. He had already attempted to blow the shadows away like clouds and cut at them like vines, but they never budged, not even a tiny bit. His sword just passed through it, and it stayed stationary when he tried to move it in any way. Stars, this was so _frustrating_.

If there was one pattern that Roman did catch up to, however, it was that since forever, the shadows did the work (robbery, vandalization, murder probably?) while the villain distracted him or any other hero that would come to stop the crime. So why was he wasting time here? With a huff and a newfound bout of confidence, he propelled himself upwards and floated just above the shadowy ground. He watched the black, foggy mixture writhe beneath him and promptly cringed. Then, there was something solid colliding with his chest.

His eyes darted upwards to survey what the hell managed to practically slam dunk him into the cement- and It was huge. Its tail flickered out into sharp spikes, with wings splayed wide, webbing laced together thinly. Its head was stricken with sharp horns and as it basically unhinged its jaw to spout a broken, crackly battle cry, Roman was face to face with the darker depths of the monster; blade-like teeth paired the abyss down its throat. The shade of the teeth matched perfectly with its elongated pointy talons that scraped up the pavement like it was soggy cereal, and _oh boy_ if that wasn’t menacing as hell.

Had tall dark and edgy _seriously_ made a _dragon_ to keep him busy?

A man after his own heart, surely.

Said dragon let out a scratchy cry imitating another roar, its large claws coming down fast, crashing into Roman's side and dragging across the concrete. Lucky for Roman, he was only hit by the side of the claw, but his mind couldn’t help but wander to how powerful this simple shadow was. Looks like his enemy had been training.

he _would_ win, this time. Last time was a cheat, a fluke, a one-time thing, and Roman would never let it happen again.

This time, he would win for sure.

-=-

Giving the dragon instruction was easier than he thought. He knew the shadows obeyed him, but they had really outdone themselves this time. He could hear the broken roars of his creation in the near distance as he snuck into the comic book store with great fluidity. This job, he wanted to do personally.

He briefly reminded himself that he was. In fact, breaking and entering and was doing something terribly illegal- but the very knowledge of why he was doing this was enough to deter him from the guilt. Salem, a darker than night shadow cat (that Virgil claimed as his familiar after years of companionship), slipped under the door to the back room and after a moment, it opened with a low and piercing creak that caused his little familiar to flatten his ears.

Virgil refused to carry the loss of a life on his conscience, ‘villain’ or no. So briefly, he wondered why, as he trekked down into the basement, people like Henry More would do something not even a villain would.

From his research, the comic store owner, Henry More, had been involved in several missing person cases over the past month, primarily of little girls. His research deterred that More’s actions consisted of kidnapping and then murder after a week of solitude.

 _Sick_ was what he was. He was a _sick_ and _twisted_ man, and if Virgil had to put him in his place then he would.

Of course, he wasn’t the best hacker, but neither was More, and so his systems were an easy job for anyone with half a mind. In fact, the only reason the police hadn’t caught up to speed was that he was based far away from the neighborhoods of these girls and was careful of cameras. Well, outsider cameras, that is. In his bag, he carried several tapes for evidence. The images of rusted cages being filled with small children that were slaughtered after a week were clear on the footage- and for that, he was willing to shed some blood of his own.

Entering the chamber-like room, he spotted the suspect himself, talking down smarmily to a small quivering ball of rags and messy blonde locks. Briefly, his mind wandered to black butler before he shook his head with a grunt. This was serious, he couldn’t let his mind wander. The sound alerted More, and the man’s eyes quickly flickered towards the doorway where the villain stood, the murderer’s eyes now wide, and hands shaking as he looked on in terror.

Good. _Let_ him be afraid.

Usually, Virgil’s preferred form of attack was long-range. It left little room for the enemies’ response. Besides, his shadows took care of the short-range perfectly. Speaking of shadows, he could feel his dragon getting weaker, patching itself up by hiding in the still remaining fog as the complaisant shadows entered the form of the beast like a stitch to a wound. Soon, they would drop as their power drained and they had to recharge.

(He would have to hurry this up.)

For this battle, Virgil would be using daggers.

Tugging one out of his belt with a gloved hand, he positioned the dagger as if ready to pounce, but before anyone could react, the space became a freeze-frame for all but one. To catch his kill before it ran with its tail between shaking legs- appearing close to the suspects' form, dagger still raised. The murderer’s breath hitched when the villain appeared as close as he did as fast as he did, and he squawked in protest as the villain plunged the dagger into his left shoulder, his other hand accompanying him to sheath the blade through his right palm.

The blades pulled back with a sickening squelch, and Virgil kicked the man to the ground, a snarl on his lips as he picked up a rusted pole that was leaning against the wall. He graciously ignored the screams and begs of the killer in favor of looking to his familiar. Salem rubbed against his legs, and his tail came in contact with the middle of the pole to break it in half. The action was smooth and controlled, and the small particles of lost shadow that reconnected as if magnetized to his tail was really a view to behold. He held out the two poles and let a newly created shadow pierce the man’s palms straight through, pinning him to the wall with the bag of tapes hanging off of one rusted branch.

He wasn’t strong enough to accomplish the feat all on his own, but the shadows were.

Turning to the few cages to his side, he started towards them. A few of the girls backed away, but he didn’t externally react.

(poor things, they must be terrified)

Instead, he clicked the lock to each cage and set them open. He picked up the man’s phone that was resting on a crate by his still writhing form, dialing the police and slipping the phone into one of the girl’s cages. None of them had moved yet, rightfully afraid and confused at the villain’s actions. Sending a two-finger salute to the girls, he and Salem left in a small twist of black shadow, disappearing without a trace.

The reason Henry More had ventured into a territory, that not even a villain would, was actually pretty simple, in the end.

Because Henry More- was the _real_ villain.

-=-

Roman growled, a stray lamp post held high above his head, ready to strike again- until the dragon twitched and looked behind itself. It had heard something, or more likely- sensed it, as Roman couldn’t hear anything and there was no way this fickle shadow had a better sense of hearing than _him_.

(who did this dragon think it was, anyway?)

It perked up immediately to whatever it was, spreading its wings and readying to take flight. Its claws splayed against the concrete, rear raised in a position that implies pouncing like a large cat, its tail even swinging and coiling as one might perceive a cat would.

Roman looked on, confused and frantic. He couldn’t let it escape; _he couldn’t lose_. He swung the post against the back of the dragon’s 'skull', pulling a roar of protest (and- pain?) from its jaws, its tail swinging frantically against the already broken and breaking ground beneath them, with wings beating to escape. Roman almost felt bad. Key-word being _almost_.

There was a whistle from somewhere within the darkness, which- had that cloud gotten lower as they fought? With a resigned and (happy? Seriously, what the hell was going on?) whimper, the dragon extended a clawed hand and began to dissipate into the surrounding shadows. What? Had he defeated it? Had he won? He watched on in pride as the dark swirls of shadow melted around him, all seeming to sink back into wherever the hell it came from.

(Didn’t the MCR reject say they were pulled from ‘frozen time’ or something?)

All pride dropped like a dead weight when the villain himself stepped out from the remaining section of shadows, a fraction of the mist circling his arm like an elegant dance before disappearing completely. The sight was captivating for several different reasons- but his anger and disappointment boiled and spilled into his thoughts, the mist from the concoction clouding his vision in shame.

“Did you have fun with coralline?” the smirking villain asked as he took two heavy, threatening steps forward, boots making a satisfying sound when they came in contact with the ground. Every little buckle and chain just made the walking sound so menacing, and it was just-well, it was cool as hell, Roman couldn’t deny that. He watched on in disgruntled agreement, pouting up a storm- but then he noticed it. Red was dripping from the black of his outfit, staining the perfect royal purples as a sin painted onto a pristine record. He twitched.

Why did he feel…betrayed?

He puffed out his chest menacingly, anger fueling his every movement as he landed, eyes narrowed to glare pointedly at the villain with a dangerous scowl. “Who did you kill, you murderer?” he spat as he took his own steps towards the decided threat.

(he wasn't a decided threat before this?)

The villain had the audacity to let out a breathy chuckle as his cat-like shadow perched against his shoulder menacingly. “Oh, me? _I_ didn’t kill anyone,” he said lightly, but then his expression morphed into a scowl, a menacing air seeping from his form- one not produced from the shadows but rather his own tone and half-hidden expression. “in fact, I did your job _for_ you.” He spat, colliding his shoulder with the bewildered prince’s harshly as he walked past. He didn’t even spare a glance over his shoulder as he walked away, calling a sass fueled ‘you’re fucking welcome’ as he rounded a corner to a dark alleyway.

Roman would have rushed after him if this were anyone else. Except this wasn’t anyone else, and from experience, he knew that the criminal would be gone by the time he got there- so he stood grounded, bewildered. Shaking his head, he jump-started his flight and took off. He needed to find a place to change and then head home. He was exhausted, and there was a large gash on his back from his fight with the shadow beast. God today was the _worst_.

-=-

Roman stumbled more than walked into his apartment, making his way to the kitchen to fetch the first aid box. Pulling it out from under the sink, he opened it up and almost _cried_. Virgil must have gone out and refilled the gauze. Oh, he could _kiss_ that stupid emo right about now.

“Yeah I’d really rather you didn’t,” a voice called from behind him and he swiveled drunkenly to face the emo in question. Virgil was leaning against the counter, brow raised and teasing smirk ever gracefully spread across his lips. Apparently, his little ‘internal’ monologue had been muttered aloud, and oh boy would he enjoy the sweet release of death right about now. Instead, he back-peddled into his ‘flirtation protection mode’, producing a few offended princey noises for good measure.

“Who _wouldn’t_ want to kiss me?” he huffed with crossed arms and the roll of his eyes.

Virgil scoffed as he pushed himself into a normal standing position. “Me, obviously.” He provided as if obvious, taking the first aid box right out of Roman's hand. “Come on, sir sing-a-lot. I’ll patch you up. As payment for last time.” He offered as he strolled leisurely into the living room, placing himself on the couch like this was a normal exchange. Either his roommate was a better actor than he gave him credit for, or this _was_ indeed normal for him. He didn’t even _want_ to know.

Either way, Roman was grateful for the help. Honestly, patching up his back would have been a mission to do all on his own, now that he thought about it. He might have even had to ask for Virgil’s help _anyway_ , and wouldn’t _that_ be a dampener on his pride?

“I thought the food was payment for that?” he asked as he prolonged the inevitable pain of first aid, searching for something sugary to help his, well, his blood sugar. There was a small scoff from the living room and a click as the medical kit was opened back up. “Guess that just means you’ll have to buy me food so we’re even.” He teased. Roman groaned in response and he heard that same airy chuckle in retaliation. Oh, that was _adorable_.

“Fine.” He huffed after collecting a chocolate bar (or two, or three), strolling into the living room with a defeated sigh. He took his shirt off, flinging its blood-soaked remains somewhere by the hall to his room, and fetched the remote off a small shelf beside the TV so he could watch something to distract himself. As he did, he heard Virgil wince.

“Jesus, what the hell _happened_ to you?” he asked with brows furrowed. Roman just shrugged. “Tried to break up a bar fight. Apparently, one of them was abled and he got a tad bit mad at me for interfering, so.” he huffed and sat on the floor In front of Virgil, who positioned himself so he could work on Romans injury, legs on either side of his injured roommate.

Virgil sighed, shaking his head as he grabbed the antiseptic wipes. Roman was flipping through the channels and eventually settled on cartoon network. Kids' shows were great, and his friends’ boyfriend had introduced him to a lot over the time they’d known each other. “I’m gonna start with cleaning the wound,” he began, dropping what looked to be a plushie into Roman's lap. It was soft and was fashioned into a black cat with purple beady eyes. “uh...?” Roman began, but Virgil beat him to it with an explanation.

“My friend made it for me. It uh, you can hold it or whatever and it’ll distract you from the pain. I can’t exactly hold your hand through this so, I figured it might help.” He shrugged, despite Roman not being able to see the action of uncertainty. A small smile split across Roman's face as he looked down at the soft kitten plushie in his lap. “Thank you.” he managed, and there was a small grunt of acknowledgment from his roommate.

Said roommate began cleaning the wound just as a cartoon started up, its bubbly intro drawing in Roman's attention indefinitely. He absentmindedly squished the plushie when the pain decked him in his perfect jaw, but Virgil’s touches were surprisingly tentative- soft and nice and a complete one-eighty from when he was patching himself up.

They moved through the stages swiftly, Virgil notifying Roman about everything he was doing before he did it. The action was surprisingly helpful, and it was even better that every touch to eventually grace his skin was gentle and precise. Virgil was an _expert_ at this, and he dared not to let his mind wander to what else those hands could do. He shivered in response, which caused Virgil to stop. “You okay?” he asked, tenderness extended over his whole tone. Roman nodded with a soft chuckle. “Just thinking.” He explained.

There was a scoff from Virgil as he began moving again, working the bandages around his torso. “First time?” he asked and Roman let out a few disgruntled princey noises in retaliation, but there was a bright smile on his lips as the exchange fell into place. The obvious relaxation of his anxious roommate at the news that he was, in fact, okay, making his heart simply flutter in delight.

It was nice, and neither of them dared to move as the next show played, both now lax as they watched the cartoon that danced across the screen in a display of professional animation.

It was nice, calm, and Roman couldn’t help but hope for many more moments like this to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter is a bit longer than the rest? I just couldn't help myself. once I started writing, I couldn't stop- and upon request, I wanted to dabble in some soft prinxiety moments. I didn't wanna go hardcore since I'm trying to make this as slow burn as my ADD will allow, but it only gets softer from here I guess? if you don't count the fact that everything will for sure end in disaster-  
> hope you enjoyed this chapter! and as per usual ill probably edit it eventually, but for now, it just be like that  
> feel free to bully me in the comments about spelling mistakes!
> 
> Edit: I found a Tumblr post about this book and honestly i-  
> http://void-donut.tumblr.com  
> Thank you so much! I'm really glad you like my book. I hope you continue to enjoy it as I update!


	6. put your spaghetti in a bowl and roll it down the hill of jumping to conclusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil blames Roman, honestly. Doesn't matter that the fanciful idiot hasn't been sick since he got here, he still blames him.

The sunlight spliced into one direct beam of golden glow as it trickled into the small bedroom, washing over Patton’s sleep weighted form. At the light’s intrusion, his eyes soon caught on to the situation and fluttered open. He stirred and sat up with a positive hum as he stretched his arms above his head, shoulders popping to accommodate the new position.

Today would be a good day, he just knew it.

\--=-

Today was, decidedly, one of the worst days of Virgil’s entire fucking life.

He didn’t know how it had happened, but he had apparently been careless enough to catch some illness- and now? He had to force social interaction by either:

  * Telling Patton he couldn’t come in (and he really didn’t feel well enough to deal with his overbearing dad mode).



_Or_

  * Going to work and suffering through it (with the possibility of getting Patton and probably countless other civilians sick).



With a sigh that came out more like a groan of pain, he sat up, head spinning at each little movement.

When he had managed to stand, he began making his way to the kitchen. He would try and stomach something- preferably just coffee, if even that- and then see how he felt about work. When he stumbled into the kitchen, however, something made itself abundantly clear.

It was _way_ too early for this.

And by that, he meant _the ass crack of dawn_.

He watched out the window as the darkness was washed off the sky’s canvas, his sanctuary beyond secluded black-out curtains being wiped away in favor of the death rays that people named ‘light’.

Slumping against the counter, now seated in a bar stool instead of an unnecessarily peculiar surface for once (yes, he was feeling _that_ bad), he ultimately decided that everything sucked and Roman was the bane of his fucking existence.

Why was he calling out the obnoxious bastard right _now_ , you ask?

Well, because apparently, ‘Mary stop-him-s’ has decided to play his Disney soundtrack at- what, six in the morning? The very worst thing about this was that it was _loud_ , and Virgil’s newly accommodated headache was not agreeing in the slightest.

Anger and spite now the main driving forces of his existence, Virgil quickly made himself a coffee. He ignored the horrible sound of the coffee machine, which couldn’t even be heard properly over the music, in favor of his best friend: sensory overload. He could practically _feel_ the claws of that beast dragging its way up his legs- the more things he noticed, the more overwhelmed he became.

Grabbing the coffee once it was done, and taking a huge gulp (which only managed to add to the beast’s size as the scalding drink made its way down his throat), he shuffled to his roommate's door- which, by the way, was on the opposite side of the apartment from his own room where he could _still_ hear the music.

Not being able to move faster than a snail, Virgil found that Roman's room felt a lot further away than it actually was.

Upon reaching the door, which was covered in all sorts of sparkly monstrosities- also known as the letters used to spell out ‘Roman’ in cursive (god, how extra can one person _get?_ )-he raised his hand and promptly began to bang on the door with reckless abandon.

He didn’t stop until the door was flung open, an all too casual Roman standing in the doorway, looking disgruntled and unbearably hot.

Virgil couldn’t _believe_ the audacity of this guy.

As soon as Roman laid his eyes on Virgil, they promptly widened at the state the shorter was in. Messy bed head, blanket wrapped around his shoulders in a vice grip, a half-empty coffee cup in one hand (that Roman immediately recognized as one of his own), bags under his eyes prominent due to his distinct lack of makeup- and were those freckles?

“You look terrible.” Roman mumbled, and if Virgil hadn’t seen the expression, for himself, that screamed ‘oh god kill me why the hell did I say that?’ clear as day, he may just have punched his roommate in his stupid perfect jaw. Instead, Virgil let his shoulders sag and a sigh escapes his lips. “I feel it. And your music isn’t helping, squire.”

Roman raised a brow, confused but with a small smile on his face now. “Squire?” he asked, leaning over to somewhere out of view. As the music suddenly turned off, Virgil let himself smirk right back. “Yeah. Your last name is Kingsley, right?” he asked to which the one in question nodded.

“well, you’re far from a prince charming, let alone a king. So, you’ve been debunked to a simple squire instead. Don’t worry, your stuck-up behavior still deserves some status. Its honestly almost impressive, after all.” Virgil managed smoothly, taking another sip from his coffee as he stared at Roman expectantly over the rim of the mug.

The other looked almost offended, a hand over his chest to further influence the imagery. “I’ll have you know that I am _royalty_!” he gasped, but the playful smirk was enough indication, and Virgil felt the light air of their conversation outweigh some of his worries. “Royalty?” he snorted “The only thing you are is a royal pain in my ass.” Virgil retorted, rolling his eyes.

The onslaught of offended princey noises that came in response made him smile, but he expertly hid it behind the coffee mug again, bringing the white percaline to his lips- wait, white? He didn’t have any white mugs.

Pulling it away to look at it clearly, he promptly realized that this was, in fact, one of Roman's mugs. Written on it in dazzling rainbow cursive was ‘a gay Disney prince’, the handle even decorated with a royal golden paint that mimicked the sort of style of a medieval goblet.

_Oh._

“Virgil? Earth to surely temple?” Roman called, waving a hand in front of Virgil’s eyes. In response, he lifted his head and blinked back any and all haze. He hummed questioningly, wordlessly asking what he wanted.

“You okay there? You uh, spaced out a bit.” He mentioned in a voice way too soft to belong to the notoriously, obnoxiously loud roommate. Virgil blinked back the haze of confusion and looked Roman in the eyes. “I am disassociating so hard right now, man.” he mumbles dismissively, looking to a clock over Romans shoulder and biting his lip. “Thanks for turning your music down, or whatever, but I should get ready for work before I'm late.” he took a step back, sending Roman a small nod before spinning on his heal and unceremoniously swaying and almost falling flat on his face.

He heard Roman sigh behind him, and before he knew what was happening, he was sitting on something soft. In fact, he was swaddled in it, and this was no longer the hallway. Well, he supposed he was the opposite of ‘ _with it_ ’ today, so- fair.

Dazed and confused, he looked around the room to try and figure out what was happening.

To his left was a bedside table with the coffee mug he had been using on it, other accessories strewn across the small surface such as picture frames, string, a box of bandages, and a mood lamp that was currently set to a soft violet. His own blanket had also been replaced with a much softer, much more regal one. It was white with goldarn patterns that accompanied soft reds and he immediately recognized it as ‘the prince’ merchandise.

Oh, brother.

“The prince?” he mumbled as he examined the blanket, looking at roman with a raised brow. Roman was currently working on something at his desk, which was at the opposite end as his bed, so he didn’t have a clear view from his position. Roman smiled softly as he looked back to meet Virgil’s curious gaze. “He’s an icon.” Is all Roman provided as an explanation.

Virgil let out a soft scoff that was slurred by his general sickness. “An icon for failure, maybe.” He shrugged “But he lost the last few fights he was in, so maybe he’s just a boy in a princey getup trying to get people to love him. And for what, insecurities? adrenaline? The _people?_ “ He yawned and rubbed some sleep from the corners of his eyes.

“I just don’t buy it. All superheroes, actually, they just… don't make sense. They stop villains, sure whatever, but have they ever actively stopped something worse than that? Something bigger than themselves? Like, oh I dunno… the Henry More case that _a villain solved and fixed_?” he waved one hand around in the air dismissively. “Or maybe the ‘Tony Anthony’ case, or the ‘three blind mice’ scenario, or even the ‘Elizabeth Skyler’ fiasco. All solved by a villain, one of which the prince has _failed_ to defeat the last two times of encounter. Maybe the prince actually knows that what this villain is doing is better than anything _he_ could ever accomplish. “

The room was silent for a minute or so, Virgil’s mind sticky with sickness that hindered his restraint and pushed the babble and unspoken truths past his lips like bile. Well, now he _actually_ felt sick.

Roman turned back to Virgil, seemingly finished with whatever he was doing. He looked purely confused, brows furrowed as he inspected the sick roommate currently perched on his bed.

“What are you talking about? Who’s Henry More? Who are- _any_ of those people?” he asked, making no move to sit or advance. Virgil sighed.

“Henry more, a kidnapper and murderer. The prince's last fight? That was when that dark assassin looking guy came along and solved the case. Tony Anthony was a missing boy, who that same villain found and brought back to his parents. There’s more details in the news- and the three blind mice? Triple attempted homicide that the villain managed to stop before it happened. Need I go on?” he huffed, pulling the soft material closer around himself, feeling vulnerable under his roommates stare.

Roman took a menacing step forward, eyes trained on his sick accomplice. “How have I not heard of this?” he glowered. Virgil, shivering at the sight of Romans stiff form, only manages a shrug in response. He turns his head down, fingers folding and twirling the soft fabric against cold skin. “They never say it’s the villain. The villain doesn’t get the publicity, because they’re the _villain_. “ he stresses, looking up again. “But there’s proof.”

A skeptical look from Roman, and then he continues. “Apparently, a bunch of followers of this new villain, that call him ‘the night angel’, have a hacking team and managed to gather evidence that it was the villain who saved these people. You know, like a group of super nerds or whatever. They claim this villain's an anti-hero or some sort of vigilante. Even with all the heists they've done- they claim it’s because of the corrupt government.” He sighed, but it came out more empty and tired than he wanted it to.

He hadn’t noticed when roman had settled next to him, his green eyes looking straight ahead like he was contemplating his own existence- something that, unbeknownst to Virgil, was actually taking place. He nudged the other weakly, trying to snap him out of whatever state he had fallen into.

There was another uncomfortable pause before Roman fumbled with his phone as he pulled it out of his pocket. With one motion, it was placed in Virgil’s lap, unlocked, and the other cocked his head at the gesture, once again opening his mouth to be cut off by Roman. “Show me. Please.”

So, he did.

-=-

It was a good hour and a half of hacked camera footage and prolonged explanations before they were interrupted by a sharp buzz. Virgil, who had been ignoring the migraine creeping into his skull like ivy, reached under the blanket, scooping his phone out and into one hand lazily. Every nerve in his body shot at that one moment, joints freezing and mind heating in a frantic ring of flames. Oh god.

Panic, it filled him up instantly. The name embedded on the screen, the familiar tone that echoed a faint and bubbly ‘you’re my dad!’ followed by some strange sounds. It was Patton, and Virgil hadn’t called in to say he was taking the day off. Nor had he eloped from Romans enticing warmth to go to work.

God damnit.

Fumbling with the device pressed to his palm, he accepted the call and put it to his ear.

“Virge? Oh, my goodness, are you okay? You aren’t hurt, are you? Was it that roommate of yours? Do you want me to come over after my shift? Or- now? Do you need me now?” Patton’s frantic voice echoed through the room. Even without the use of loud-speaker, the ever-powerful dad voice was always something to behold. “No, Pat, I’m okay. I’m- I’m just sick. Some common bug or something. You don’t need to come over, I’ll be fine.” Virgil managed to finally slur out.

Roman looked over to the overwhelmed undercover villain, and sighed. He slipped the phone from his grasp, Virgil not really fighting for it, but instead offering a small, weak glare in response. Roman sent a reassuring smile to his roommate (something that was unusually calming) and pressed the speaker feature.

“Virge? Virgil are you there? “ The panicked voice chimed at the moments of silence. Roman chuckled light-heartedly and Virgil presented a huff in response. “Hello, this is Roman. I’m Virgil’s roommate. it’s a pleasure to talk to you on this fine day.” He greeted. Silence, then, “Is he okay? I mean- it's nice to meet you too but is my dark strange son o _kay_?” he stressed, which was met with a hearty chuckle.

“Yes, the incredible sulk is alright. He’s sick, though. Definitely. From what I can gather, you’re his boss? Or, friend? Boss-friend?” he queried. There was a small laugh from the other end as Patton hummed in agreement, calming himself. “Well, you have my word that I will take care of our little Charlie frown over here.” He chuckled, a wide, teasing smile directed at Virgil as he spoke.

“I hate you,” was his response, but Romans smile only seemed to spread.

Patton sighed “Oh good. Make sure he doesn’t come into work- he shouldn’t overwork himself! And maybe make him some chicken soup. Some chick- _in_ while you stay _in_!” the proclaimed boss-friend giggled. Roman huffed a small laugh, rolling his eyes fondly. “Of course. I don’t have work today, anyway, so I should be okay to take care of him.” He sent a wink Virgil’s way, an action met with a soft snarl (but the dusting of pink across his cheeks did not go unnoticed).

Roman and Virgil shared a small look, their eyes meeting as Patton talked into the silence. For once, without any real reason to, Virgil let himself feel a smile flood his face. It was small, dainty, and shy, but it was genuine, and Roman made sure to save that mental image for as long as he lived.

Yeah. this, he could live with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, look at that, I updated a day after I said i would. well, this chapter is messy, but I'm hoping to have this as a beginning to a shenanigans chapter. call it filler if you will but I need my disaster gays to be dumbasses for a day. you know, for the soul.  
> as always, I'll probably go back and edit this monstrosity, and feel free to bully me about any mistakes in the comments


	7. aren't twins supposed to be close?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> enter: the competition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus, okay, this chapter exists for legal reasons I swear

Virgil sat quietly in the bar stool, head in his arms as he promptly ignored his surroundings. The sound of Roman bustling about the kitchen to make him soup caused his mind to buzz with heat, and he forced out another weak groan. 

With a hum, Roman set down Virgil's soup In front of his blanketed form, draped dramatically across the counter. “Well, I've never made soup before, so this will be interesting.” Roman commented as he sat beside Virgil calmly. The emo in question looked up incredulously, brows cocked in mocking confusion. “How the fuck have you never made _soup_ before?” he mumbled, unimpressed. Roman only shrugged in response.

“My brother always did the cooking before I left the nest. You’d think he would be terrible at cooking but, he’s actually pretty good at it. For an annoying bastard, anyway.” he huffed, a soft pout poking at his lips.

Virgil hummed, uninterested. 

He pulled the bowl towards him as he struggled to sit himself upright, stirring the liquid with a spoon and watching the heat seep off of it. He could feel Romans eyes tearing a hole in his head, so he shot a warning glance over to the annoying brat with a small scowl. “I can feel you staring at me, you creep. What do you want?” he hissed unceremoniously. He swore he caught Roman stiffen before he returned his gaze to whatever concoction was in front of him. Roman cleared his throat. “Well, I was just...wandering, I suppose. About before. All of those cases, they’re...they were saved by some treacherous villain.” 

Roman fiddled with his fingers, practically glaring at his hands as he continued to speak. “And- I didn't even know? I mean, all those people in danger and heroes didn't even notice. And yet, this random villain…? It just doesn't make sense, Virgil.” he exclaimed, frustrated. 

“If I were you, I’d do something about it.” Virgil responded as he took a sip of the soup. Roman cocked his head to the side “We can’t, we aren't abled. And even if we were, we’d have to go through so many precautions. It's practically helpless.” he grumbled, lying through his teeth. Virgil scoffed in response, dropping his spoon in the steadily depleting soup. “Rip to you, but I'm built different.” he joked, a mischievous smile in his eyes. 

His roommate rolled his eyes. “Why, are you abled?” he asked, with absolutely no faith behind the question. Virgil shoved a spoonful of soup into his mouth before humming. “Are you?” he asked, looking up at Roman through his dyed bangs. Memories of the glowing red burned into his memory as he met Romans distinct green eyes. He watched the other flinch, and he could practically feel the others' anxiety from where he sat. 

Virgil turned back around to inhale another spoonful of soup, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “I was just joking, Kinsgley.” he mumbled, his mind sounding out princey right behind him. 

“A-ah, yes. I knew that.” Roman supplied, his nerves shot. Before he could even open his mouth, Virgil's phone began blasting another tune. ‘Queer as in Fuck You’ by ‘Dog Park Dissidents’, Roman identified begrudgingly. He watched as Virgil's lips pulled up in a small smile, pulling the phone out of his pocket. He answered the call without a second to spare, putting it up to his ear as he sat up a little straighter.

“What's up, you fucking abomination?” Virgil greeted. His smile only grew when the mentioned abomination let out a hearty laugh. “Oh, nothing much, Virgin. You know me, living life by the second.” Remus responded fondly, and Virgil could swear he heard a distant ‘that's because you’re an impulsive idiot’ in the background. He must be with Janus, then.

He ignored Romans confused staring in favor of humming and stirring his spoon absentmindedly. “So why are you really calling me? I thought you were out of town until next month.” he mentioned. There was a deep chuckle on the other end that Virgil denied made his heart swoon miserably. “Things changed. Me and J-anus are sticking around for a while this time. In town, I mean. We don't have a place to stay, so…” Remus trailed off expectantly.

Virgil let a breathy laugh out through his nose. “So you need a place to crash?” he asked with a small smile. “You could probably stay around here but I moved a little while ago, so I've got a roommate.” he mentioned absently. Remus groaned on the other end and Virgil nodded in agreement. “Me too, sis.” he mumbled, glancing to Roman. “Hey glitter king, can a few friends crash for a bit? I’ll confine them to my room and try not to let them bother you.” he asked with a hopeful expression.

Roman sighed. “Fine, I suppose that works.” he mumbled dramatically. “Just don't let them bother me, you emo nightmare.” he demanded, crossing his arms. Virgil grinned. “Sweet,” he raised the phone to his ear again “he said it's chill. I'll send you the address.” 

There was a small ‘whoop’ from Remus as Virgil sent them both his new address with a fond flutter in his chest. “Oh, by the way,” he spoke up after sending the message. “I’m sick, so you have to bring the good shit.” he laughed roughly. Remus agreed excitedly and gave a quick farewell before ending the call. Virgil set his phone onto the counter defeatedly, pushing the soup away. 

Roman cleared his throat. “So...who was that, exactly?” he asked, standing to take Virgil's half finished soup to the sink. “Crackhead energy personified and a foxy con man.” he mumbled. Roman sighed as he filled the bowl up with water, noticing that he probably wouldn't get any more information out of Virgil, and would have to wait until these ‘friends’ of his arrived. 

-=-

Virgil was curled up on the couch, his own blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he groaned at all sounds too loud for his poor brain. So, when obnoxiously loud banging sounded on his door, he was ready to throw hands. He stood, begrudgingly, and shuffled over to the door. “Yeah I'm fucking coming!” he called, running a hand through his disheveled hair to calm his nerves.

He sighed as he unlocked the door, pulling it open only to come face to chest with Remus, who was significantly taller than himself. “Virgin!” the idiot exclaimed as he bulldozed into the apartment and scooped Virgil up into an exaggerated hug. Janus stepped in behind him, shutting the door behind as he entered. “It's nice to see you again, Virgil. You look absolutely terrible.” he greeted calmly. Virgil smiled as Remus tried to burrow himself into his neck (having to bend down to nuzzle him) “Yeah, it's nice to see you two again, too.” he mumbled and awkwardly pat Remus’ back. 

“And for your information, I look fucking fantastic considering Remus’ screaming just made my migraine twenty times worse.” he scoffed as he jabbed Janus’ chest playfully. 

There was a click from down the hall as Roman opened his door, peering out to see what the commotion was about, and he practically froze when Remus stood up to grin down at Virgil, who hadn't registered Romans entrance yet. 

He stood, opening and closing his mouth for a few seconds, scrambling for something to say as he looked on in shock at his own brother.

So, dumbly, he mumbled “Remus?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cfudoeixuf its been forever. so, yes I've changed the main ships but there will still be prinxiety (its just not the focal ship anymore)  
> I don't know if this chapter is shorter than the rest, but google docs wont tell me how many words I typed to fill almost three pages so this is all you're getting for now while I crawl out of the creative block I'm stuck inside

**Author's Note:**

> I got bored. also, this is meant to be a multi-chapter story but i dont have an update schedule so deal,,,  
> hope you enjoy/enjoyed


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